


The One Where The Cowboy Falls in the Creek

by shepardly



Series: Murphy's Law [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly
Summary: McCree takes a quick tumble into a river while on a mission and figures he's fine, but Murphy's Law says otherwise.





	The One Where The Cowboy Falls in the Creek

***

 

McCree yanked his soggy boot off and dumped water out of it, cursing his rotten luck under his breath and paying no mind to the puddle he was creating on the shuttle deck. His hat was a disaster, dripping wet and drooping, and he plopped it on the seat beside him on top of his already shed, water-laden serape.

 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” McCree snarked at Genji, who was barely able to keep his shoulders from shaking with laughter in his seat across the way. “I’d like to see you look so graceful just trying to survive an outnumbered gunfight.”

 

“Oh, that was grace, was it?” Genji returned as the rest of the team trooped onboard, making their way to their seats after their completed mission to make their way back home. “It was difficult to tell, although that was an impressive splash you made as you rolled into the river.”

 

Hanzo slid into the empty seat next to McCree, raising an eyebrow as he took in his sodden state, but McCree didn’t look at him, pointing at Genji instead. “Hey, they’re dead and I’m alive, which counts for something in my books.” He sneezed violently.

 

“ _Mein Gott_ , of course you pick up a bug from the river water as well.” Angela noted with a shake of her head. “You need to come to the med bay as soon as we get back to base.”

 

“I ain’t sick.” McCree stubbornly folded his arms and sat back in his seat, unconsciously leaning into Hanzo’s shoulder a bit. “Just got water in my nose.”

 

“Yes, from when he rolled into the river.” Genji said. “Did you see?”

 

It turned out that the incident had been caught on video, and McCree groaned as Hana replayed it over and over again on her MEKA’s large screen for the team while they laughed at the close call. Even McCree had to admit, as harrowing as it had been, his dodging roll that had ended in a spectacular splash in the river was rather comical. Hanzo slid his hand into McCree’s, ignoring the damp sleeve pressed down his side.

 

“Are you alright? I would not wish for you to become ill.”

 

“I ain’t sick.” McCree repeated stubbornly.

 

***

 

“I ain’t sick.” McCree said again the next morning during the mission briefing, resisting the urge to sneeze and sniffle. 

 

Winston peered at him dubiously over the top of his glasses, but eventually nodded reluctantly. “Alright, if you believe you’re up to it, we are short-handed for this mission...”

 

“I’ll be fine.” McCree did cough a bit, but it wasn’t too bad. It would likely clear up before the morning was over. Hanzo rolled his eyes beside him, but didn’t say anything. Winston finished debriefing them before sending them on their way, and McCree quickly went to find some cold meds he remembered having stashed in his room before they left again, just in case. Hanzo stopped him before he made it very far.

 

“You shouldn’t be coming.” Hanzo said bluntly, ever the man of few words, even after all these months of them being together.

 

“Aw, darling, you always know how to make me feel wanted.” McCree said sarcastically, but softened under the look that earned him. “I’ll be fine, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo placed his hands on McCree’s shoulders and searched his face, studying him closely enough it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He did have a headache, sore throat, and a cough that wouldn’t quite go away, and he wasn’t sure how much it showed.

 

“If you would rather I stay here with you…?” Hanzo offered questioningly, and Jesse sighed, taking his hands and kissing them each in turn.

 

“I’ll be fine, Hanners. This is a quick mission, and Winston needs us all on-board. Then I’ll lay down and rest, promise.”

 

Hanzo slowly nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.”

 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

***

 

Twenty minutes out from the drop point, McCree was questioning all his life decisions that had lead him here. His head ached, his throat felt like he had been gargling glass thanks to all his coughing, and his nose was producing a frankly alarming amount of snot, managed only by the swiftly dwindling pack of tissues that Hanzo had handed him shortly after they had boarded. All in all, he was miserable and ready for this mission to be over already, as well as second guessing his decision to skip out on Angela’s suggestion to go to the med bay. There hadn’t been enough time, anyway, and there was nothing for it now. McCree tugged the last tissue out of the package with a sigh and noisily blew his noise, ignoring the disgusted look Fareeha shot him. Hanzo wordlessly handed him two more packs of tissues, and McCree could have cried.

 

“You’re a life saver, Han.” McCree wrapped an arm around the archer’s shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss on the head. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

 

“Stop.” Hanzo groused, but didn’t try to pull away. “You would do the same for me.”

 

McCree just hummed in response, settling in against Hanzo and closing his eyes to see if he could catch a quick power nap before they touched down.

 

It seemed like seconds later when Hanzo shook his arm, rousing him from a deeper sleep than he’d meant to fall into. “I’m up, I’m up.” McCree grumbled, blearily pushing himself upright and getting himself sorted out. When he looked up, he caught both Hanzo and Fareeha watching him worriedly.

 

“Jesse, you’re sick. You shouldn’t be on this mission.” Fareeha said, getting to her feet with her helmet under her arm. Hanzo swept an open arm at her while raising his eyebrows at Jesse, a clear _thank you, that’s what I’ve been saying all along_ in the gesture.

 

“I ain’t that sick.” McCree amended from his earlier protestations, then sneezed violently before cursing and fumbling for the tissues in his pocket that Hanzo had given him.

 

“Can you even shoot like this? How do you aim when you’re sneezing and coughing?” Fareeha insisted.

 

“Didn’t you hear Winston this morning? Nice and easy mission, in-and-out, if everything goes smoothly we won’t even make contact.” McCree coughed into his sarape.

 

“Yeah, well, you’re here, so shit will likely hit the fan.” Fareeha said. McCree spluttered and turned to Hanzo for support, but the archer had a faint smirk on his face and lifted his hands in the universal _I’m staying out of this_ signal.

 

“I can’t believe this. Sister is picking on me and the love of my life abandons me.” McCree heaved an over-dramatic sigh, which only set off another fit of coughing. Fareeha rolled her eyes and put on her helmet as the mission alert light came on, signalling that they would be starting soon.

 

“Just… stick to the plan.” Hanzo reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “But if it becomes too much, let us know. We will pull back.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Hanzo.” McCree gave him another kiss on the temple. “You’re worrying too much.”

 

***

 

A couple hours later, and McCree was ready to admit that maybe he hadn’t been worried enough. The way to their goal had required moving quickly and stealthily, and it had taken its toll. His breath wheezed through his aching throat, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could silence it if he needed to anymore. Goosebumps prickled his flesh arm and he shivered periodically from a chill, despite the sweat he felt collecting on the back of his neck under his serape.

 

Despite how miserable and awful he felt, however, he took pride in that he hadn’t made any missteps so far. The mission was going off without a hitch.

 

“I have the data.” Hanzo said over the comms. “Falling back now.”

 

“Agent Pharah, report?” Soldier:76 rumbled.

 

“The area is still clear.” Fareeha reported back shortly.

 

“Good. Everyone sound off and fall back to the drop point, maintaining stealth tactics.”

 

McCree acknowledged the order, trying to ignore how speaking aggravated both his headache and sore throat, and began making his way back to the shuttle, sticking to the shadows and keeping his spurs silent.

 

“Um, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, luvs, but I think I have bad news.” Lena piped up just as McCree was approaching the shuttle.

 

“Report, Agent Tracer.” Soldier ordered.

 

“I can’t confirm yet, but it looks like we have hostiles waiting for us at the shuttle.”

 

That made McCree stop where he was, hugging the wall in the shadows with Peacekeeper in hand. He could already see the shuttle, but there were no signs of movement around it.

 

“Location?”

 

“Just west of the shuttle, moving into position. Eight of them that I see so far.”

 

“We’re on our way. Hold your position.”

 

McCree caught a flicker of movement, and knew then that Lena had been right to warn them. He looked around, looking for higher ground, spotted a fire escape nearby and wasted no time climbing higher.

 

The hostiles had hunkered down, waiting to spring their ambush, and hadn’t noticed McCree yet. He could see all eight from where he was.

 

“Agent Tracer, confirm eight hostiles.” McCree tapped his comm and barely breathed out his confirmation order, both to stay undetected and to save his sore throat.

 

“Uh, yep, eight hostiles. What are you…?”

 

“Step right up.” McCree muttered, feeling Deadeye’s power wash over him like a hot desert wind as the eight hostiles blazed like the sun in front of him. Peacekeeper kicked in his hand, too quick to keep proper count, but eight hostiles slumped to the ground. He didn’t have to check to know they were dead.

 

Usually, when he used Deadeye, the hot desert wind blew through him and faded within seconds of him using the ability. This time, however, the heat didn’t seem to be fading, and the blazing sun that lit up his targets had brought his mild headache up into the level of near-blinding. He holstered his weapon before loosening the collar of his shirt and tried to clear his throat, ending up coughing with a grimace instead.

 

“Agents Tracer, McCree, report!” Soldier was barking over the comms.

 

“He got ‘em!” Lena whooped. “He was all ‘step right up’ and ‘bang bang bang’ and—”

 

The sounds of her excited imitations of his southern drawl and sound effects seemed to fade into the background as McCree felt the world tilt around him, and he barely managed to grab onto the railing of the fire escape in time to keep himself from falling to his knees. His breathing was loud along with the ringing in his ears, and his chest felt tight and painful.

 

“Agent McCree?” He heard Hanzo calling, then more urgently, “Jesse?!”

 

McCree realized his prosthetic hand had crumpled the railing in his grip, so he tried to loosen it a bit. Too much, it turned out, because he ended up on his ass on the fire escape, still clinging to the railing with his flesh hand.

 

A flash of blue, startling him enough that he tried to reach for Peacekeeper, but he recognized Lena before his sluggish reflexes could close his fingers on the grip. He knew he needed to get up, to return to the shuttle, but he just needed a minute to rest before they went. Breathing was difficult at the moment, making it impossible to convey that sentiment to her, but he hoped she got the idea as he let his eyes slide shut again and his chin dipped down to his chest.

 

Lena was saying something, her voice shrill and her grip tight on his upper arm, but he couldn’t understand her and could barely pry his eyes open to look at her. A shiver ran through him even as the heat built inside him, but he couldn’t remember why that should seem strange. His eyes were heavy, and he gave up trying to keep them open, but he was still vaguely aware that the bumps and nudges against him were Lena attempting to keep him upright against the railing when he started to slump over.

 

The next thing McCree was aware of was all his air leaving him with a faint groan, a confused sense of vertigo, and the fading sensation of strong hands having been on his body. He was slumped facedown over a warm, hard surface that dug into his sternum rather painfully, and his right arm and leg were being held firmly. It was hard to breathe, but he managed to get enough air in before it was forced out with another groan when the surface below him began to move.

 

Prying his eyes open didn’t help clear up his confusion for a long moment, but he finally recognized the jacket his face was nearly pressed against and realized he was being fireman-carried down the fire escape.

 

“I could carry him down.” Fareeha was saying somewhere over the sound of her hover jets.

 

“There’s no room for you to land. Should I throw him over the side?” Hanzo suggested, his tone terse, close enough that his voice rumbled through McCree’s chest. McCree whimpered at the thought of being tossed to waiting arms— even if he did trust them both, although it was with a reluctant, suspicious ‘waiting-to-see-what-kind-of-prank-it-would-be-this-time’ kind of trust on Fareeha’s part— curling his fingers into Hanzo’s jacket to hang on.

 

“I _would_ catch him.” Fareeha said, although with the air of having given up.

 

“We’re almost down.” Hanzo replied, but McCree wasn’t sure if it was to her or him, as Hanzo patted McCree’s arm comfortingly. McCree opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a wheeze followed by a fit of coughing that began deep in his chest. He felt like he was burning up, the desert wind unrelenting as it blew through him once again.

 

***

 

When McCree could open his eyes again, he found himself on the floor of the shuttle, cradled against Hanzo’s chest with his murmurs against his ear. Fareeha was knelt in front of him, a hand on his shin as she looked at something or someone over her shoulder. His chest hurt, and it was hard to breathe.

 

“McCree?” Jack said, somewhere to his right and McCree tried to look towards where his voice had come from, but Fareeha’s head whipped around to look at him before he really had a chance.

 

“ _Jesse!_ ” Fareeha somehow put all her relief, fear, and exasperation into that one word, two syllables. “Just hang on, alright? We’re still thirty minutes out from Gibraltar.”

 

Jesse weakly nodded as he struggled through another wheezing breath, and felt the fine tremor in the hand that carefully held his head close to Hanzo’s neck. He managed to lift his shaking right hand and clasped it over Hanzo’s forearm, just anchoring himself and hoping it was as much a comfort to the archer as it was to him. A coughing fit hit him then, nearly doubling him over, but Hanzo held him, murmuring soothingly in his ear when he fell back, exhausted.

 

“M’sorry,” McCree tried to tell Hanzo, his voice rough and crackling on what felt like glass in his throat, “shouldn’t’ve used Deadeye, think it’s burning me up.”

 

Hanzo shushed him, smoothing his sweaty hair off his forehead. Fareeha handed Hanzo something wrapped in gauze, and McCree couldn’t help his gasp when it was stuffed without ceremony into his armpit. It was _cold_ , and he would have complained except that it felt so damn _good_ against the heat that burned inside him. Another one came, pressed against his aching forehead and neck in turns, and he nearly groaned in relief, slumping even further against Hanzo. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he realized Hanzo was gently shushing him, and it was even longer before he realized it was because he was mumbling apologies between coughing fits, his voice weak and pathetic even in his own ears. He shut up when he realized what he was doing, and felt Hanzo squeeze his hand when he fell silent. He weakly squeezed back, just as another coughing fit hit. Hanzo held him through it again, but when it subsided McCree couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs, his chest feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. Dark spots crowded the edge of his vision and the ringing in his ears grew louder as he struggled to breathe.

 

The last thing McCree heard was Hanzo shouting his name.

 

***

 

He became aware of sounds and sensations around him periodically, having no sense of how much time had passed between each episode or how long he stuck around for before going under again, not really surfacing enough for anything to really register other than the coughing and the ache that accompanied it. It wasn’t until his nose began to itch abominably that McCree realized he was really awake.

 

“Is he waking up…?” Someone was asking somewhere to his left just as he was trying to lift his hand to scratch his nose and remove whatever it was that was making it itch, but someone much faster than him grabbed his hand and held it gently but firmly.

 

“Jesse? You with us?” It was Fareeha calling him, her voice cautiously hopeful. He managed to grunt an ‘uh-huh’ as he pried bleary eyes open, squinting in the med bay’s lights until he adjusted enough to see Fareeha, Genji, and Ana arrayed around his bedside with a mixture of expressions, although they were mostly overlaid with relief.

 

“Ooohhhh, he’s going to kill me, the one time he’s right about the least likely thing happening,” Genji was ranting to himself, looking towards the door and then at Jesse again, “Jess, I’m so glad you’re alright, but you need to pretend to go back to sleep and ‘wake up’ again in about twenty min— ow!”

 

Ana gently smacked Genji on the arm, shooing him away as she produced a cup of water from somewhere and helped Jesse get a few heavenly sips down. “Leave the poor boy alone, he just woke up. Jesse, how are you feeling?”

 

It took a moment to take an honest assessment of himself through the fog in his brain. He registered that his cybernetic arm was gone, removed at some unknown point in time, but at a glance down his shoulder assured him that it appeared intact so it had likely been Angela putting it aside for safe-keeping. He coughed a bit, and grimaced at the ache in his ribs and abs from that movement. His tongue still felt thick when he managed to rasp out his response. “Little tired, ma’am. Sore, too.”

 

“What’s sore?”

 

He struggled for the words, and ended up laying his hand on his ribs and abdomen instead. Ana clucked her tongue and nodded understandingly.

 

“You’ve been coughing for quite some time; that’s to be expected. It will pass now that the worst is over.” She patted his hand. He wrinkled his nose as it itched again, and he was stopped yet again as he reached for it.

 

“You have to leave it.” Fareeha said, hanging onto his hand like it was her job now. “It’s helping you breathe. And Angela will kill me if I let you take it off. She’s on her way, by the way.” She added.

 

“It itches.” McCree whined, realizing only then that it was a nasal cannula that was tickling under his nose and causing the itching.

 

“I know. Suck it up.” Fareeha said unsympathetically.

 

“I am never teaching you how to hotwire a car again.” He huffed, letting his weary eyes drift shut again.

 

“Too late, you only had to do that uuuuhhh,” two sets of wide eyes suddenly went to Ana as they remembered their audience and Jesse groggily tugged on Fareeha’s hand that still held his, urging her to come up with something good, “never. You’ve never done that. Golly shucks darn for me, as you like to say.”

 

Ana rolled her eye with a put-upon sigh while Genji snickered.

 

“Children, please. If you think any of your stunts get by me you think lowly of me, indeed.” Ana sniffed, but she had a small smile on her face. Sensing he wasn’t about to get his ears boxed anytime soon, McCree relaxed and even managed a lopsided grin just as Angela walked in.

 

“McCree! It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” Angela checked the monitors by his bedside before coming to stand beside him, always seeming to be in motion, genuine concern and relief for him on her face as she fussed with the leads and IV’s she had strung all over him.

 

“‘Bout as good as can be expected for a fella that slept…” McCree trailed off, a confused frown furrowing his brow. “How long did I sleep?”

 

“Well, let’s see,” Angela looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall, checking the time, “we’re coming up on… seventy hours now.”

 

Three days? He had been asleep for nearly three days? McCree looked around at those gathered around his bed and began to get a better understanding for their concern and relief. He also didn’t understand how he could still feel so exhausted after having slept for so long. He was pretty sure he’d be able to nod right off if given a few moments opportunity.

 

“You fell slightly ill due to your little swim from our last mission, and from what I’m told it was worsening during your data collection mission.” Angela glanced around the group but no one corrected or contributed any more. “When hostiles attempted to ambush the team at the shuttle, you used Deadeye. Do you remember?”

 

McCree did, vaguely, in a way as if it had happened to someone else and he had heard about it. “Sort of. I… I remember thinking I was gonna burn up.”

 

Angela pursed her lips. “I believe that you were already becoming too ill to be on the field, but the use of your ability while ill caused complications. Your temperature spiked and you had developed an infection in your lungs, not unlike pneumonia. You’re lucky your team returned you here so quickly. I do wish you had come to see me after our last mission, McCree.” She scolded gently. “You were gone on the next mission before I even knew you had skipped out on me.”

 

“Sorry, doc.” McCree rasped sheepishly. “There wasn’t much time, and I thought I could handle a few sniffles and coughs.”

 

“With rest and staying at base, yes.” Angela shook her head in exasperation. “Running around on missions and causing complications by using unstudied abilities, not so much.”

 

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” McCree said sheepishly, before asking what felt like an obviously put off question, “where’s Hanzo?” He felt like he was fading, fast, but he wanted to see him before he slept again.

 

“I am so sorry, Jesse.” Genji pressed his hands over his eyes. “He’s been here the entire time, I swear, but I only just managed to bully him into going for a shower and real food like, ten minutes before you woke up.”

 

McCree blearily grinned at Genji, nudging him with his foot to get his attention. “S’okay. Thanks for watching out for him.”

 

Running footsteps could be heard out in the hall, approaching rapidly.

 

“I may have shot him a text.” Fareeha admitted guiltily.

 

“Oh, me too.” Genji nodded vigorously. Hanzo nearly slammed into the open doorway where he froze, arms braced on the door frame, eyes wide as he took in the room. His hair was still dripping, and his capri-style sweats were also damp, evidence of his recent shower, and his hoodie had obviously been yanked on in a hurry as the string as nearly pulled all the way through one hole. Jesse recognized the slightly too big flip flops on his feet as his own stupid cactus print ones that Reyes had bought him as a gag gift.

 

“Hey, darlin’,” Jesse said with a smile on his face and a tremor in his voice, and suddenly had an armful of ex-yakuza assassin. He buried his face in Hanzo’s shoulder, hanging on as best as he could, trying to soothe away the fine trembling he felt in his muscled back and wishing he could sit himself up to do it properly. As it was, the bed was propped up a bit with a couple pillows behind his back, but he was still far too reclined to be able to push or pull himself up, as weak as he was.

 

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he choked out, eyes already welling up and getting Hanzo’s hoodie damp, “I was a fool, and I’m sorry—”

 

“Hush, Jesse.” Hanzo held him tightly, pressing kisses against his forehead and hair. “I won’t deny you are a fool, but do not apologize.” He sounded like he was going to say more but cut off abruptly, squeezing McCree even more tightly as his breath hitched.

 

McCree clung to him and Hanzo didn’t let him go, occasionally running his hands down McCree’s arm or through his hair as if reassuring himself he was still there. McCree heard the others murmuring, keeping their voices low, and someone gently patted his shin, but he was too tired to pull back and connect with the conversation again. He just breathed in Hanzo, listening to his heartbeat, soaking in his warmth.

 

“Rest, Jesse. We will be here when you wake up.” Hanzo eventually murmured, and Jesse let himself drift away while still held in his arms.

 

***

 

Just over two weeks later, McCree took a deep breath while stepping off the shuttle, glad to finally be back on a mission.

 

“Heads up, McCree! There’s a river over _that_ way!” D.Va pointed to the east of their location with her MEKA and a grin. “Just remember: stop, drop, and roll applies to fire, not water.”

 

“Pack your scuba gear if you’re planning on going for a dip today.” Fareeha clapped him on the back on her way by. McCree spun on his heel to look back into the shuttle, indignant, only to see Hanzo offering him one of the small inflatable life jackets that were normally stored under the shuttle seats in case of emergency, one eyebrow raised in question.

 

“I am under _attack_.” McCree announced as the rest of the team howled with laughter at their own bad jokes. “You think you’re a bunch of comedians…”

 

“Just concerned for your safety.” Hanzo approached him, wiping laughter-tears from his eyes after tossing the life jacket back into the shuttle. “But honestly, Jesse, don’t go near that river or I will kill you myself.”

 

McCree took his hat off and fanned himself with it, fluttering his eyes at Hanzo a bit. “Sir, yes, sir.”

 

D.Va made a retching noise, followed by a muttered assent from Fareeha, but McCree considered it a small payback.

 

“C’mon people, we have a mission to complete.” Soldier:76 barked, snapping the group back into order as he strode out, the others falling in line with only a few lingering titters. Hanzo squeezed McCree’s hand, and McCree lifted Hanzo’s hand to press a quick kiss to his fingers before they were off, down to business.

 

“Oh, and McCree?” Soldier called out unexpectedly. “Water is off limits today.”

 

***


End file.
